


Blood Loss

by Skylar_Inkstone



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 21:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20767049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar_Inkstone/pseuds/Skylar_Inkstone
Summary: Trixie moved from L.A. back to Wisconsin after her grandparents dies and leaves her their house. Along with the home, they also leave Trixie the acres and acres of wooded area that they had owned. One day, while in the forest, Trixie meets a mysterious stranger with an enchanting allure.





	Blood Loss

Trixie enjoyed the quiet. After moving to L.A. and living there for about twenty years, she had been more than ready to move back to the silent backwoods of Wisconsin after her grandparents died and left their old house to her in their will. It was also convenient that her mother lived more than two hours away. The only person who she was still in contact with was her sister, Amy, and Trixie was okay with that.

She loved waking up every morning and choosing not put on what used to be pounds of makeup, parading around as a beauty guru under the pressure she had faced at work. Now, after about a year of living out in the middle of nowhere, with no one to pretend for, her skin had cleared up and her freckles came out as Trixie spent the majority of her time outside. She liked to sit and garden, growing all sorts of vegetables. She also loved to simply bask in the sun, while it was still warm out. She’d also sit out for hours and hours, whittling away at wood, creating whatever strikes her mood. Almost all of her pieces she sells to a shop a few hours out down the road as one-of-a-kind mementos for all of the vacationing couples that end up at the inns and hotels in the city. Once in a while, she’d pick up one of her old guitars and hike out to a small stream in the wooded area of her property and play, enjoying the music.

It was also nice that her grandfather had inherited the land from his grandfather, which meant that Trixie was now also the owner of acres and acres of land that she’d never explored as a child. She could lose whole days to discovering the beauty of what the wooded expanses hid.

Because for so long she lived somewhere with no privacy or with the quiet enchantment that her land held, she didn’t believe in using the curtains that remained thrown open in the windows of her house. She adored waking up with the sun every morning; the wide open sky being painted a gorgeous pallet of pale pinks and blues, the gradient so fine that it was near impossible to locate where one bleed into the other.

Trixie also didn’t believe in the use of a smartphone. She had a landline, for when her sister wanted to call, but nobody else had the number. She did however, have a laptop, as she always believed in following in the happenings of the world. She didn’t have social media – it all got deleted as soon as her plane had touched down in Wisconsin, but she did, once in a while, visited an old Tumblr account for laughs whenever she was feeling the drain of constantly being without human interaction. She also had self-installed speakers throughout the house that was connected to an Alexa she had bought, for the sole purpose of listening to her music whenever things got too quiet for her.

Overall, Trixie wouldn’t complain. As a matter of fact, she felt more healthy and positive then she’d ever felt. So when she had woken up in a bad mood this morning, it felt a bit odd. Dreamer, her husky, must have sensed her mood, because she suddenly found herself looking into his bright blue eyes, causing her to laugh. It didn’t necessarily make her feel better, but it did make her laugh. Shoving lightly at Dreamer to get off her, Trixie slid out of her bed and stumbled over to her closet. Most of it were sturdy denim or jean pants and tank tops, tee shirts and flannel shirts. All the way in the back corner, in boxes, were her L.A. clothes. The dresses, mini-skirts, crop tops and shorts that had no practicality. She hadn’t worn any of them since she’d move – there really wasn’t much point to it. But today she decided to go through the boxes, choosing one of her old favorite crop-tops and a pair of jean shorts that barely hit passed her upper thigh, missing the ridiculousness of what had been L.A. fashion. She figured that one day in her old clothes wouldn’t kill her, but to be smart, she pulled out a pair of black leggings to underneath the shorts. She also hunted down a zip-up sweater so that when she went outside, if she chose to go into the woods, she wouldn’t be unnecessarily exposing her skin to be scratched or to the ticks that populated the forest.

She walked into her bathroom and took a quick shower. After dressing, she glanced at the rather large box that had remained unopened since she’d packed it. After a slight moment of hesitation, she tore it open, thankful that she had chosen to place everything in a sections. Locating what she was looking for, she quickly went to work. Her hand, though still retained the muscle memory, was unused to the how much she required it to keep steady, caused the whole process to take longer than it should have, but the end result was worth it.

Staring back at her from the mirror was L.A. Trixie, her makeup heavy with over-drawn lips and huge, thick wings. It was a startling realization to see how much the sharp, staggering difference unblended lines and thick and obvious highlights made to how her face seemed shaped. A nose that used to bother her for seeming too big now appeared to be a skinny thing, while her cheeks took on an unnatural look, and her eyebrows went into her hairline.

Gazing at her hair, Trixie frowned, put away the makeup products, and went into her bedroom, locating her flat iron. Sitting in front of a vanity that she mostly used when she didn’t feel like standing to put on her facemasks – she still liked to exfoliate – Trixie, started the arduous process of taming her naturally wild curls. Eventually, she got them to stay straight and flat, using her blow-dryer to give her hair volume. Once satisfied with how her hair looked, she put away the flat iron and blow-dryer, giving herself a few minutes to pretend to moan at her reflection, releasing her pterodactyl screaming laughter, finding herself to be ridiculously hilarious. She didn’t actually care about the makeup or up doing her hair anymore, but it felt good, and simply _sexy_ to be dressing up after a year.

Dreamer, who Trixie had heard barking in the kitchen a few minute before, came walking into the room, drawn by his owner’s absurd laughter. Smiling at the husky, Trixie stood up and went into the kitchen, pouring out kibble and water into Dreamer’s food bowls, before taking eggs out of the refrigerator in order to make herself an omelet. After eating, Trixie grabbed one of her guitars – the one her grandmother got her for her sixteenth birthday – and whistled, motioning for Dreamer to come follow, as she picked up the picnic basket she had packed.

Once outside, Trixie and Dreamer head off towards the small stream. As they head down the worn path they’ve created, Trixie suddenly halts, and looks at a marking on a tree. Getting a closer look, Trixie recognizes the poorly carved smile with a mole by its childishly created lip. She gives a small smile, remembering when she had went hiking with her grandfather as a child, and insistently carved her ‘Dolly Parton Face’ onto every few trees. Making a split second decision, Trixie quickly finds the next carving, choosing to follow where ever they took her.

After a while, the carvings ceased however, Trixie and Dreamer kept going in the same direction that the engravings had lead them, and after about an hour of walking, they stumbled across a glade with boulders populating it. Finding the biggest, flattest one she could, Trixie climbed atop it, took off her sweater and took her guitar out of its case. Dreamer happily lopped around the glade as Trixie started to tune the instrument.

She didn’t know for how long she played, singing the lyrics she could recall and humming the parts she’d forgotten. Eventually, Trixie noticed Dreamer sleeping by the boulder she was sitting on. Realizing that sun was directly overhead, Trixie figured that it was about noon, and slid off the rock, gently setting her guitar down. Opening up the picnic basket, she pulled out her peanut butter sandwich, happily taking a bite. She quickly demolished her food and took a long drink of her PowerAde, which she always bought tons of to keep whenever she went into the city, as it’s the best way to keep hydrated.

At some point, Dreamer had woken up, and Trixie fed him some tuna fish, which he oddly enough, liked. Deciding that she didn’t want to hike back through the wood just yet, she clambered back up onto the boulder and continued to play whatever song struck her mood.

Right as she was in the middle of singing one of her own original songs that she had written during the sleepless nights in L.A., Dreamer started to growl, signaling that there was something dangerous in the immediate area. Abruptly Trixie stopped playing, slapping her hands on the strings to still them, the sudden silence deafening. Trixie suddenly desperately wished that she had remembered to even bring her pocketknife, let along her axe that she used to cut down smaller trees for firewood.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” a voice said, hidden in the trees that Trixie was staring at.

**Author's Note:**

> Can I tell y'all how nice it feels to actually be WRITING?! My writers-block is still here, my muse just demanded that I use the few brain-cells I have left for this new idea. For those of you who follow my other stories, I have NO idea when I'll be updating next, I'm still sort of stuck at where I am. I *might* have an idea of how to continue Colored, but at this point idk. Anyways, Kudos - but more specifically - comments fuels my creativity, so don't be shy. I love hearing from you guys. You can also always come talk to me on Anon on Tumblr @our-blood-is-our-ink.


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